


Swords into Ploughshares: Episode Expansion

by HolodeckProgram1701



Category: Rosemary and Thyme
Genre: Episode Tag, F/F, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 20:13:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17946356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolodeckProgram1701/pseuds/HolodeckProgram1701
Summary: Fills in some missing moments from the episode, "Swords into Ploughshares."Laura and Rosemary may have been dancing around the fact that they both like one another; but given Rosemary's "near death" it's time to come to terms with it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Previously in the episode, Laura thought that Rosemary had died because it was reported that way on the news. But she was not dead- it was a case of mistaken identity. Finding out who her imposter was, and what she was doing, has lead Rosemary and Laura to take a job for a classic English estate garden owned by the eligible bachelor Lord Engleton. They stay on the premises for convenience. 
> 
> At the time when this fic begins, it is evening after their first day there. Rosemary has excused herself from the nightcap with Lord Engleton and Laura in order to go to bed. Laura and Lord Engleton have just had a heart-to-heart about living life for what makes you happy, and now Laura is heading upstairs to check on Rosemary and hit the hay.

Laura was exhausted. Pausing before the banister, she took a deep breath. Would she have the energy to get up the stairs before dawn? Was that third night cap really necessary? Between the poor food from Mrs. Webb and her own ricocheting emotions over Rosemary’s near-death, her body had used up all its resources. What it needed now was bed. 

Unfortunately, she had given it alcohol. 

Could be a long climb. 

Resigning herself, she cautiously made her way up the first step. At least the stairs were the most of her worries tonight. It was still shocking to her that she had thought Rosemary dead not half a day ago; and now Rosemary was alive and well, and they were working a job in a lovely estate. Her post-Nick “new life,” as she had called it to Lord Engelton, was indeed working out very well. But the hours she’d spent believing Rosemary had evaporated from this world had brought her almost to her knees in a deep thrum of grief. She’d needed every ounce of training she’d ever had as a cop, wife, and mother to throttle her tears away from where others might see them. On the way to Mrs. Boxer's she had already planned her breakdown: she would get to the kitchen under the guide of making a calming tea. Then, she'd have closed the door. Sunk to the floor. And, slumped against the cupboards, would have shaken and expelled every moment of joy she’d ever shared with Rosemary; would have hurled her tears from her cheeks down to splash against her chest and die there, drowning.

Laura took a deep breath. Upon reflection, she deserved need every fluid ounce of alcohol this estate could offer. But she was calmer now, at least, and had no desire to wake up with a hangover. All she wanted now was to crawl into her bed and exchange a few good-nights with the living, breathing Rosemary. 

Who was probably already snoring, Laura admitted, rolling her eyes as she finished climbing the stairs. She’d never seen Rosemary duck out of a night-cap before. Laura felt guilty. Had she been too consumed in her own emotions to observe how upsetting it must have been to Rosemary today? After all, her name was tagged on the dead body of a former classmate: it really was gruesome. 

Laura paused at the door to their room. On the one hand, if Rosemary were asleep, it would be cruel to wake her. On the other hand, they’d barely had time to discuss Rosemary’s de factor resurrection- and she wanted to talk about it. Of course, Laura wondered exactly what she was going to say other than a sincere “Very glad you’re not dead.” Because the truth was that Laura’s sentiment went rather a bit deeper. It went to a place where Laura had not been in years, when she had gotten a call that Nick was hurt in the line of duty, and she'd felt as though the world had been blown-up and forgotten to kill her, too. 

Laura shuddered. Exactly how she had acquired such intense emotion for Rosemary was one thing. Dealing with it, she supposed, would be another. But avoiding Rosemary now was not in the cards.

Unable to control her own desire to see Rosemary safely tucked into bed any longer, Laura hurried as quietly as she should into the room.

It was empty. 

Laura looked twice to be sure. But there was no tiny blonde to be found. Halfway back out the door, she spotted the card. She flipped it open to reveal Rosemary’s neat penmanship. 

“Back soon.  
Love, Rosemary.” 

Laura seethed. Shoving the letter down onto the pillow, she stormed into the hallway. Rosemary wasn’t tired. Rosemary was sneaking. 

Laura raced down the stairs she’d just taken so long to climb, her anger building as she realized her comfy bed would be a long time coming now. Where had she gone? The cheek of her to go to bed early and leave Laura having to politely take the night-cap, with the hellion Mrs. Webb looked on in jealousy! To go looking for clues alone! It was dangerous out there, did she want to die twice?

Laura strode on increasingly steadier legs to find Lord Engleton, embarrassed at needing a lift but determined to head to wherever Rosemary might have gone. Anger was a more productive emotion than love. At least, for the time being. 


	2. Chapter 2

Thirty minutes later, Laura was finally safe and sound with Rosemary in the estate bedroom. The doctor of horticultural idiocy was icing her head and sheepishly avoiding Laura’s gaze.

As well she should, Laura thought darkly, casting a glare over the top of the book she was barely reading. Clobbered on the back of the head for no reason other than that she’d left Laura behind when she went exploring! It was ridiculous. If Rosemary had been- no. Laura swallowed. Rosemary had “almost been” too often today.

She sighed, snuggling down deeper into the comforter and hiding behind her book. Seeing Rosemary on the floor had send her into a spin, that’s for sure. Her relief at seeing her conscious was tantamount to a midnight miracle.

The midnight hell was wondering why Rosemary had signed the stupid, reckless note with “Love.” 

“I am sorry, you know,” Rosemary’s voice interrupted. She sounded less sorry and more petulant. Laura scowled. Clearly, now was not the time for the conversation she thought they'd be having.

“I know,” Laura said. And she left it there, not trusting herself to elaborate. Otherwise, she’d end up interrogating Rosemary about the mystery of the meaning of “love” on the note. The note that was currently stuffed into Laura’s book and which she couldn’t stop starring at.

Peeking at Rosemary, any hopes she had of a secret admirer were dashed as she saw her friend had succumbed to lure of her lap top. So much for that theory, Laura sighed. She closed the book and turned off her light.

“Night, Rosemary.”

“Good night, Laura.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now, we get Rosemary's point of view. 
> 
> Enter the classic disaster gay.

Dawn came, and Rosemary regretted everything. 

Scooting into the shower, she winced as she tried to wash her hair. That blow to her skull had been no joke! Going alone and unannounced had been stupid. And what was worse, she’d nearly ruined all of her careful, guarded pining over Laura Thyme. 

She glared at her reflection in the foggy mirror. First, you throw her into Lord Dingleton’s arms, like a fool, she accused herself. And why? So that no one would suspect that you like her? Lunatic!

Blasting the hair dryer, Rosemary continued her tirade against herself upside down. Then, you leave Laura a note, like a lovesick teenager. You wrote 2 words. There was no need on this Earth to sign such a brief message with “Love, Rosemary.” Oh, you make me sick! 

Righting herself again, she changed quickly into her clothes. Pink, her favorite color. Why she bothered dressing up today, when she was clearly just going to be an idiot….What was she going to do next, offer to bring flowers to Laura’s wedding with Lord Engleton and kiss the bride goodbye? Ugh. It was too many shades of early season Xena. And she really, really disliked finally understanding why Xena had allowed and encouraged Gabrielle’s wedding.

It was because they were dumb, hopeless idiots. 

She sulked as she dabbed on some makeup, then skulked out of the bathroom. 

Peeking at Laura, she bristled when Laura appeared totally absorbed in the view out the window, as if she hadn't even heard her come out of the bathroom. 

She doesn’t see you like that, Rosemary reminded herself. Nothing to be mad about. Trying to mask that pain with another one, she began brushing her hair with more vigor than it could handle. This morning was certainly a painful reminder that rushing off alone, without Laura, had never worked out well for either of them. Feeling an uncharacteristic need for Laura's attention, NOW, Laura yanked the brush hard enough to elicit a yelp. Ouch. 

“Are you alright?” Laura queried, turning from the window to face her. She looked concerned. 

And gorgeous. 

Damn light blue fabric, damn hat, damn Laura. 

“Just the bump from last night,” Rosemary explained, shrugging. She got up and drifted closer to Laura, rubbing gently at the back of her head. 

“You shouldn’t have gone off like that,” Laura chastised softly, her voice warm and gentle. 

Rosemary felt almost a physical pull then, a yearning to be closer. Laura looked so safe and strong. Why was it wrong that she had such a crush on her? Maybe she could kiss her better? She drifted a little closer. 

Laura’s eyes widened slightly at the intrusion into her personal space.

"Any idea who attacked you?"

Distracted, Rosemary replied as if from another planet. 

“I told you, I didn’t see them. And no, I didn’t smell any aftershave or perfume that will help us identify them, detective Thyme.” 

She was so close now that she could just have her chest brush, as if by accident, against Laura’s side. So she did. And for a moment, it was perfect. They both froze. Rosemary’s every nerve was awake and begging her to slide even closer. If Laura would just throw her down on the bed, this day could be salvaged.

But then Laura breathed just a little too unsteadily. 

The sound jolted Rosemary from daydream to reality. What the bloody hell was she doing? She thrust herself out of Laura’s space. 

“Anyway, time to go. Meet you there!” she blurted out. Then she fled.

Two brushes with death and she was becoming a floozy for her best friend? Pathetic, Boxer, she admonished herself. Have sex with someone and give the girls a good shake-down. But don’t just be a perv with the one person who’ll never want it, and the one person you’ll always want in your life.

She made it down the stairs and outside to the garden in record time.


	4. Chapter 4

Laura alternated between hopping mad and feeling electrified. 

What the hell was Rosemary up to, getting that close and touching her and looking…like she had? With her big eyes, and that rough, gravely voice calling her Detective Thyme? And her- her chest? Not that she had much there; but used those girls very well, Laura admitted. 

Glancing in the mirror, Laura confirmed that she was blushing. The whole sequence had been like something out of a dream she’d never have allowed herself to have. 

And then Rosemary had fled- dressed into head-to-toe shades of pink, like a storybook princess. And, like the fictional princesses, she’s bolted right down the stairs of the castle. 

From above, Laura looked down at the garden in time to see Rosemary fling herself in the path of a waiter and knock back a glass of wine. Perhaps by coincidence, or, more likely, a guilty conscience for having bolted like a rabbit, Rosemary’s eyes drifted up and saw Laura silhouetted in the window. She spun quickly, hiding her face in her drink. 

Laura threw her hands in the air. What was going on? 

She decided it was time to go down to the party herself. Once outside, she practically ran towards the wine. Laura decided that the fact that they both needed a drink was somewhat encouraging. And even if it meant nothing- well, she still had the drink.


	5. Chapter 5

The party, it turned out, was fairly boring. Laura was generally uncomfortable around the upper class, and today they were out in droves to celebrate the garden, its owner, and the university. Unwilling the survive a second of the experience without the comforting, down-to-Earth Rosemary, she'd sought her friend out. 

"Oh Laura, there you are! Do you know, I think I hit my head harden than I thought. I felt rather dizzy upstairs. Really needed some air. All better now, though," she concluded, taking a small sip of wine.

"Oh. Good," said Laura.

She sighed. More mixed signals. And a plausible cause for her odd behavior. Not what she wanted.

Still, all things considered, the afternoon went well. They talked quietly about those around them, avoiding any protracted conversations with others, choosing to focus instead on discussing the mystery of the stolen tape and its biblical allusion. They ran through a list of motives for a few guests, ranging from the archaeologists to the estate staff. And then, Rosemary decided to get on her high horse and roll-up her sleeves for a good fight with one of their most publically prominent prime suspects: the dean.

Hunting him down, Laura watched as Rosemary stuck as many verbal pins as time allowed into the chair of the archaeology department. The slender blonde looked pleased as punch doing it, too. And at the moment when Rosemary shot her a triumphant glance, her face flushed with victory, Laura was very grateful to have the drink to hide her own face in. For nothing was as attractive on Rosemary as her fighting spirit. Most especially, when she was her fighting someone twice her size. Anger lured out of Rosemary entrancing rolls and gravelly tones that were, to the recipient, shards of glass; and to Laura, the observer, sweet arrows from cupid's bow. 

Laura’s blush returned.

"Are you hot in the sun, dear?" Rosemary asked, looking worried. "Your face is all red."

"Damn," Laura muttered under her breath. "I hate my skin."

"What?"

"Nothing- I said, probably just too much wine after last night," Laura replied. 

Rosemary shook her head at her, but smiled. 

"Well, then let's go talk to a few more people. The best use of the garden today is for clues and conversations!"

"You really enjoy murder too much."

"Pot, kettle," Rosemary retorted. "You love a mystery as much as I do!"

Alas, not all mysteries, Laura thought to herself as they headed off towards the edge of the path. For instance, the mystery of whether you love me or not!


	6. Chapter 6

By evening, Laura lost all notions of asking Rosemary about "the incident." It was simply too hard to talk when you'd been poisoned by the jealous hand of Mrs. Webb, Lord Engleton's not-so-secret admirer and sole source of food in the house. Unfortunately. 

Groaning, Laura poured a generous portion of baking soda into her cup in the bathroom. 

“Mrs. Webb is definitely poisoning me,” she complained as she walked out and sat on her bed. 

“Jealous lover?” queried Rosemary, nestled into a book. 

“Hardly. I’m the last person about to marry Lord Engleton,” Laura groaned out, her stomach pain making her more blunt than she normally was. “To hell with men, remember?” she added, crawling into bed and grabbing a book of her own.

Rosemary was quiet for a moment.

“Really? The prospect of being a lady doesn’t intrigue you?” 

“Not unless you’ve got a manor hidden away from me,” Laura responded. 

Silence.

Laura didn't care to analyze it. Mostly, since she hadn't even registered saying it. She was too focused on nestling into her pillow, letting the baking soda lead her off into a more comfortable slumber. Snug under heavy blankets, she imagined a world where the Lady Boxer had invited her gardener in for dinner at the manor, one cheerfully devoid of men, and where perhaps she’d held the gardener's glance for a little too long over a glass of wine.

Of course, she was the gardener.


	7. Chapter 7

‘Not unless you’ve got a manor hidden away from me.’

Rosemary flushed and quickly snapped the light off. What did Laura mean by that? She couldn’t find a single retort. 

There's no way Laura just discreetly asked to marry me without ever saying an “I love you,” Rosemary decided, incredulous.

Was there?

After all, she’d signed her note to Laura with “Love” the other day, after ten minutes of deciding whether or not it was the right move, and then never heard a word of it from Laura. 

She was being silly. 

Still, if she had a manor house of her own…

In her dreams, she poured a glass of wine and offered it to Laura, gesturing at the expansive gardens and adjusting her tiara for maximum effect. Yes, these are my gardens. Yes, I’m Lady Boxer. Yes, I’d love to show you around…

-

And some point, for both dreamers, the tour ended with a secluded corner of the garden and a kiss that would make a statue blush.


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue: The conversation Rosemary & Laura have the next morning...

“Laura did you get my note the other night. That I left on your bed?”

“Of course.” 

“Did you read it?”

“Yes. How else would I have known you were off being stupid, and not kidnapped from our room?”

“Oh, alright.”

“...Rosemary?”

“Yes?”

“I’m very glad you’re not dead. Both times.”

“Thank you, Laura.”

“Yes, well…Love you.”

“...I said it first.”

“Does that matter?”

“Not as much as who’s going to do something else firs-....oh….Laura…”

...

And from there, not a lot of words were needed!

The End


End file.
